A Very L&O Valentine's
by Cirocco
Summary: (With Leslie Rampey) Please, Mr. Wolf, doesn't everyone deserve a happy Valentine's Day?
1. Chapter 1

**_A Very L&O Valentine_**  
by  
Cirocco and Leslie Rampey

**TO OUR READERS:**

Since this is a bit of an unusual fic, we think we owe you a wee bit of explanation of how it all came about. It originated during discussion of a point of view held among some fans and zealously adhered to by Dick Wolf – that is, the characters of _Law & Order_ should have as little of personal lives as possible. Often the phrase we hear is, "I don't want to have to be keeping up with who is sleeping with who."

Well. We'll spare you our elaborate calculations, but we determined that other than assumed sleeping with spouses by past and present married characters (which we don't have to keep up with) and Mike Logan's sleeping around (which we didn't have to keep up with either since we never knew who the women were) there have been only one possible/probable case (Jack and Claire) and one documented case (Rey Curtis and the girl in the Park) of anyone sleeping with anyone in all of 12 ½ years. And _even if_ every one of the unmarried characters suddenly did sleep with someone, that would bring the average of anyone sleeping with anyone to fewer than .5 cases per year – which hardly would tax anyone's ability to "keep up with." So, we decided to have some Valentine's Day fun with that.

Oh, and by the way, this is in the style of Cirocco's "An Open Letter to Fanfic Writers." Meta-fiction is so much fun!

We hope you'll enjoy.

**February 13, 2003**

"I am _not_ buying her a bunch of pink flowers!!" yelled EADA Jack McCoy. "I hate pink! Besides, I have an opening statement to work on!"

**ooo000ooo**

"You want me to take her to a techno-music festival?" Detective Lennie Briscoe asked in bewilderment. "What did I ever do to you?"

**ooo000ooo**

"Hang on, hang on - I'm supposed to spend _how_ much on this woman?" Detective Ed Green protested.

**ooo000ooo**

"So... I'm supposed to tell Jack I can't help him on the opening statements because my new boyfriend Tony 'Tackle' Torini got a couple of front-row pro-wrestling tickets for us?" ADA Serena Southerlyn asked, her voice actually gaining emotion for a moment. Incredulity, to be precise. Quickly she flat lined emotionally again, "OK, I'll leave him a note."

_Finally_, thought the author. _A character who's willing to cooperate._ She paused. _Although... oh never mind. If it's just Serena playing, that's worse than nobody at all._

_No, come on,_ she gave herself a mental shake. _It's for Valentine's Day. Surely I can tug on their heartstrings for the sake of Valentine's Day._ She thought over her characters. _Or maybe I'll just strong-arm them – after all, it's not like they really have any choice in the matter._

Across the city, four characters went to bed wondering how they were going to cope with this unexpected turn in their personal lives – namely, the rather bizarre prospect of _having_ personal lives.

**ooo000ooo**

Wondering how in practical terms they all were going to deal with this latest intrusion by the fanfic writer, as one of the senior characters, Lennie thought he better go downtown tomorrow and touch base with Jack.

**February 14, 2003**

"It's ludicrous!" Jack bellowed the next morning, to a somewhat, but not overly, sympathetic Lennie. "Where would I even get pink flowers? I don't date women who like that kind of thing! Don't these people know anything?"

"I'd say not," Lennie commented, calmly watching Jack pace up and down his office. "You wouldn't believe where she wants me to take my date. A techno-music festival," he said it gingerly, like someone trying out a foreign language. Jack continued his rant unabated.

"I mean, really! Flowers! Next she'll want me to buy beanie babies and soft plush teddy bears!"

"Or neck in a movie theater," Lennie put in. He sighed, thinking of the last time he'd taken a woman out to a movie. Actually... that hadn't turned out too bad... of course that had been over a decade ago, so he might be misremembering.

"Besides, I don't have time for this romantic garbage! These fanfic writers just don't understand! They really expect us to solve and try cases _and_ have anything left over for romantic activities? Don't they realize how hard we have to work?"

"Can it, Counselor," Lennie told him. "We've got bigger problems. What do you suppose is gonna happen when Dick Wolf finds out we have personal lives?"

Jack blanched. "Oh, my god. Lennie, you're right -- those pink flowers could turn into pink slips!"

"Damn right. Next thing you know he could be telling us we're 'bathetic' or something."

Jack sat down quickly and reflected. "Well, you know, I haven't... I mean, since Claire... you know..."

"What are you complaining about? I've been chaste since I've been in the damn show. You got any idea how old that's getting after almost eleven years?"

"Still, I'm not sure this fanfic writer can make us do this. It must be a Class-Something Felony. Or at least a misdemeanor."

"Aw, c'mon, Jack. Let's think about it. It might be fun, and probably Dick isn't looking. I hear these fanfic people fly well under his radar."

Jack reflected for a bit. "Do you really think we could get away with it? You're the detective."

"Sure. It's worth a shot anyhow. And you gotta be dying to see who Ed and Serena come up with for dates."

"Those losers?" snorted Jack. "Yeah, it'll really be interesting to see who the fanfic writer turns up for them. I sure don't envy her the challenge."

"So, you're in?"

"Do we have any choice?"

"Let's see... stagnate with Wolf, or get to exercise some emotional muscles with the fanfic writer?"

"You might have a point. But she's not going to do any of that slash stuff again, is she?"

"Nah, she's totally in hetero Valentine's Day mode. Besides, she'd have to figure out a way to get Mike back over here from Staten Island for you, and she doesn't have time."

"Thank God. So, Lennie, you're really okay with taking a date to a techno-musical festival?"

"Well, actually, I was going to try to get an audience with Ms. Fanfic about that. I was thinking something more in the way of a musical. I hear the _Chicago_ revival is pretty good."

**ooo000ooo**

Lt. Anita Van Buren stepped out of her office, looking for one of her detectives. Nope, Hollings wasn't there. She searched for his partner. Nope, no Parnell either. She suddenly took in the relative silence of the squad room - other than a bunch of perps in the holding cell and uniforms anonymously going about their unibusiness, there wasn't a single detective in sight except Lennie and Ed.

"Lennie?" he put down the phone with a satisfied smile and looked up at her.

"I just got tickets to _Chicago_!" he said happily, before asking, "Yeah?"

"You seen Parnell or Hollings?"

Lennie shook his head. He poked at Ed, who was glumly fiddling with a calculator.

"Ed?"

"Huh?" Ed asked distractedly.

"Parnell or Hollings?"

"Parnell had to go pick up flowers for his date tonight, and Hollings lit outta here like a bat outta hell when his wife called and said his kid's at the hospital with a broken arm." He continued picking at the calculator. Anita frowned.

"Just like that?"

"Family comes first, Lieu," he muttered. Anita's eyebrows went up.

"Since when?" Ed sighed heavily, not looking up. Anita looked at him more closely. "What are you doing?"

"Math," another heavy sigh. Anita looked at Lennie questioningly.

"Can't be that bad, Ed," Lennie said encouragingly.

"Not to you, maybe. But... the way I figure it, it's 100 for a nice restaurant, 15 for flowers, 20 at least for the movie, 10 for coffee afterwards... 10 for night-supplies, the ones I had expired in 1995..."

Anita frowned some more. "Ed? You're planning a date when you're supposed to be working?" Ed seemed unconcerned at her irritation, too upset at his budget to care.

"Come on, it's not that bad. Don't you think it's nice to actually need the pharmaceuticals for once?" Lennie asked. Ed shrugged morosely. Anita pursed her lips in annoyance, but decided to back off.

"Fine. Get back to work soon. In the meantime, if you see Hollings or Parnell, tell them the ME's just called for them." She surveying the precinct, muttering "Where the hell is everybody?" to herself.

"Franco split for the fertility clinic," Lennie supplied helpfully. "His wife's ovulating, so he's gotta get over there and donate while she's warm. Russeau's pretty sure her boyfriend is gonna pop the question tonight so she's gone to get her hair done."

"Huang's kid is doing a dance recital at her school. Joliet is going through counseling with his wife," Ed added.

"March is trying to see if he can ask out that clerk down at Evidence. And Gohaut's coming out to his parents tonight, so he's trying to psych himself up."

"Does he know how much that's gonna cost?" Ed asked.

"Uh... he says they should be OK with it, not like they're gonna disown him or anything-"

"No, I mean _cost_. Is he taking them to a fancy restaurant or something?"

"Yeah, actually, he's making reservations right now." Ed sighed. "What?"

"No, I just, I thought maybe that would be more economical, and it would still satisfy Ms. Fanfic's need to put me in a personal situation. Never mind though. I guess I'll just have to go traditional." Another heavy sigh, this time joined by Anita as she clued in.

A fanfic. Damn it. That meant anything and everything was fair game, people were gonna act like idiots, and her precinct was going to go to hell in a hand basket in the hands of an amateur. Double Damn.

"Guys... not that this isn't really fascinating or anything..." Anita said, "But... has anybody given a thought to how we're supposed to be getting any work done while all of this touchy-feely stuff is going on? You know, actually deal with crime in the 27th Precinct?"

Lennie and Ed shrugged. "Doesn't seem to be our problem today, Lieu," Lennie reassured her. "Why don't you go back to your office. I'm sure you'll find a message from your husband saying that he's got some kind of hardware emergency or something. Then you can go off and deal with that and crime won't be your problem either," he got up and put on his jacket. "Sorry, I gotta go pick up my tickets," he wandered off, cheerfully whistling "All I Care About Is Love."

**ooo000ooo**

Well, I'll be hornswoggled, DA Arthur Branch thought as he wandered about Hogan Place. Only 5pm, but not a soul in sight. Except for some cleaning people. Where the hell was Jack? Where the hell was Serena?

Where the hell was everybody?

He spotted a note on Jack's desk. Looked like Serena's writing.

"Jack, sorry, Tony got tickets to pro-wrestling tonight. Here's my notes on the Samms case. Sorry I won't be able to help you work on tomorrow's opening for Gutierrez."

Tony? Pro-wrestling? What could that little lady be doing at a pro-wrestling event?

Branch went to Serena's desk, hoping to get some clues there. What was that? He picked up a note, Jack's writing.

"Serena, sorry, I have a last-minute hearing (scratched out) family emergency (scratched out) date. You'll have to do the opening for Gutierrez on your own, I couldn't get to it because I was busy tracking down flower shops. Do you know of any stores that still sell beanie babies?"

Well I'll be a monkey's uncle, Branch thought to himself. Jack's got a case that has to do with beanie babies. What the hell?

He wandered aimlessly for a while, trying to see if anybody was in. The silence was getting oppressive. Like the silence at the fishin' hollow when he was a kid, in the part of the pond where the bloodsuckers hung out.

Where was everybody?

Branch felt a prickle of apprehension. Something weird was going on. Like that time Molly's sister-cousin had gone off shootin' possums on Old Man Halloran's Farm, and afore y'knew it, there warn't one single possum makin' a peep in those thar woods-

"Hold on," Branch stopped in his tracks, looking up. "Possums and sister-cousins? I'm not _that_ Southern. Nobody is."

_Beg pardon?_

"Where are you getting this Good Ole Boy garbage? You been watching reruns of Deliverance?"

_Uh... no, just watching you. Getting a feel for your character._

"And _this_ is the feel you got?"

_Hey, you called yourself a carpetbagger and referred to Jack as 'a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs'. What did you expect?_

Branch sighed. "I suppose so," he said, resigning himself to his fate. "Carry on."

He went back to his office. Dang. He hated feeling at loose ends. He was the DA, he supposed he should have plenty to do, but... what was he supposed to be doing, exactly, other than advising his ADAs on their current cases?

Shmoozing. Shmoozing seemed to make up a lot of a DA's job. OK, he could shmooze. He made a bunch of phone calls, trying to contact other DAs, retired judges, councilmen... nothing. Nobody was in.

This here's damn annoyin', he thought to himself, wishing for some tobacco to chew. Realizing that even if he could find some in the Big City, he'd left his spittoon back home in Alabama. Tennessee. South Carolina. Wherever the hell he was from.

"Well, we got ourselves a predicament," he said to the empty room. "We got a DA who's not real sure what to do with free time in the office, a staff that's gone to God knows where... reminds me of the time when all us young'uns went out skeet-shooting, but didn't tell my Aunt Sally, who was supposed to be mindin' us. She just about went out of her mind worryin' about us. Looked for us up and down and all around."

He waited for somebody to ask him where this was leading. Nobody did. Right, cause they warn't there.

"Anyway, the point of the story was that we were fine. Aunt Sally just needed to relax."

The phone rang. Oh good! He snatched it up, encountering an irate voice on the other end.

"Branch! What the hell's going on with your people?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Judge Schrieber! I've got a motion to suppress evidence in the Blackson murder trial here, your people were supposed to send me their response by this afternoon... are they just not going to contest it?"

"Which of my people?"

"McCoy and Southerlyn."

Branch tried to come up with an excuse so that he wouldn't have to admit that he had no idea where they were. "Maybe they don't want to waste your time if it's a legitimate suppression-"

"Legitimate suppression? The guy walked into a precinct, recited his own Miranda rights to the first cops he saw, told them he'd killed his business partner because the guy called him a weenie, handed them the murder weapon, held out his hands and said, I've been a bad boy, you have to put me away now."

"And the defense wants to suppress the confession because of mental instability?"

"No, the weapon! Because the police didn't obtain a search warrant for the guy's hands!"

"You're joking."

"I'm not. I think the defense is on crack. In any case... your people aren't contesting it."

Branch thought for a moment. "You know, when I was a defense lawyer, we had a case where-"

"Branch!! Stay in the here and now!! Find McCoy and Southerlyn and tell them to send me their rebuttal!!" the judge slammed down the phone so hard that Branch winced.

"This is damn peculiar," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Like a catfish with blue polka dots. You just don't know which way to fry it." He shook his head. That hadn't even made any sense to him.

An audience. He needed an audience. He always thought better when he had people there to bounce ideas off of. He wandered out to the empty floor, finally spotting a couple of cleaning ladies and waving them over. They approached curiously, mop buckets in tow.

"Come in, come in," he ushered them into his office. "Siddown."

Glancing at each other in bewilderment, the cleaning women sat down gingerly.

"Now I got me a problem, ladies," Branch began. "I cain't seem to locate my staff. Normally they're very hard working, very dedicated. But today, it looks like they're AWOL, gone on a date and to pro-wrestling, and dropping the ball on their cases. Now, it's just not like McCoy to not respond to a ridiculous motion to suppress. He lives for that kind of thing, like a pig lives for swill. And Ms. Southerlyn, why she's as cute and perky as they come, looks like she should be crowned Miss Combine Harvester or something, but she's always doin' her best to make sure we know she can play in the big leagues. She's a real bright young lady, always got her mind on the job. And yet they're both gone. You see my predicament?"

The two cleaning women stared at each other in complete befuddlement - especially the one who couldn't actually understand English. Who was this strange man, and why was he telling them all of this? And why hadn't he actually made eye contact with them the whole time he'd been speaking?

"So now I gotta figure out what to do. How to track them down. And it ain't gonna be as easy as trackin' down a nanny goat in a public dump, either."

"Excuse me, Sir?" the English-speaking cleaner spoke up hesitantly. "Is there something we can do about this?"

"Oh, no, no," Branch reassured her, "Just sit there till I'm done. That's what my staff does. They know I just like hearing the sound of my own voice but I feel silly talking in an empty office." He gathered himself for the next section of his monologue, The Plan. The Plan for how he was going to find his troops and bring them back to work. The phone rang.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Branch?"

Branch smiled at the voice on the other end of the line. "Lieutenant Van Buren. What can I do for you?"

"I'm having a little difficulty here, and I was wondering if you were too. Have you seen your staff around?"

"No, as a matter of fact I haven't. I seem to be the only one left at Hogan Place today. I was wondering what to do about that."

"Well, hang on, I'm coming over there. I was thinking that maybe we can work together on this."

Oh, goody! Somebody real to listen to him! He smiled and agreed, and quickly dismissed the highly relieved cleaners.

**ooo000ooo**

"Oh, sweetie-pie, you look sooo cute," Jack told his date that night, and a horrified look grew on his face with each word. She smiled sweetly and rather vacantly, but frowned as he brusquely told her, "Hang on," and looked up at the air. "No. This is beneath my dignity."

_Would you rather I contact a certain somebody in __Staten Island__?_ a disembodied voice asked.

"Sugarplum, that's just a divine colour on you," Jack told his date hastily, glancing up at the noncorporeal approving sound. He patted his date's arm gently and cleared his throat. "Happy?"

_Sure._

"Just one thing. Can we take the saccharine content down a little?"

_Hmmm..._

"I do have some experience with women, you know," Jack said testily as his date glared at him, increasingly annoyed while he ignored her in favour of some woman she couldn't even see. "Trust me."

_Oh, all right._

"And one more thing," he cleared his throat, glanced at his date, and widened his eyes in what he hoped was a reasonable facsimile of amazed surprise. "Oh, sweetheart, it's Brad Pitt!!" he pointed behind her. While she turned around and frantically tried to locate Pitt, Jack quickly spoke sotto voce. "Can you do something about her IQ? For example... raise it? Above room temperature?"

_You're so demanding._

Jack waited patiently.

_Oh, all right._

The woman turned around, narrowing her eyes at Jack. "Jack, for heaven's sake. Why should I care whether Brad Pitt happens to be in sight? Can we order something? I do have a summation to prepare for tomorrow."

Jack smiled appreciatively and glanced at his menu. He wondered how the rest of the L&O Singles were faring.

**ooo000ooo**

Lennie approached his date's apartment door with the vague sense that he had been there before. Whatever. He was just relieved that he had been able to talk Little Ms. Fanfic out of that techno-music festival. Sounded like about as bad an idea as Mike and Jack being a couple. Where do you suppose she comes up with this cr-

_Watch it, Briscoe! Do I have to remind you that I control who you're going to find behind that door?_

"Okay, okay - I'm sorry." Actually, he was getting pretty curious about that. Still, a date was a date - not something that happened every day on this show. Aw, hell - it didn't even happen once a year. He remembered that Mike used to have dates, plenty of them, but hardly anyone had one at all since Mike left. Hoping once more that Dick Wolf would never catch wise to this, he knocked on the door.

He was right. The apartment was familiar and so was the woman who answered the door.

"Er..." he began uncertainly and felt very foolish. Not only was he woefully out of practice, but he had no idea how one approached a date set up by a fanfic writer. This woman, whoever she is, does she even know she's in a fanfic? he wondered.

"Uh, this is sort of hard to explain..."

"You're Detective Lennie Briscoe, right?"

"Yes. Have we met?"

"Valerie Walker. I identified Mary Kostrinski for you. Remember?"

He did. The Duff case. The first one he had worked with Mike. Yes, they had come to this apartment and found Valerie Walker just out of the shower in a white terry robe and a towel around her head. A little brassy, he had thought at the time, but sure not bad-looking.

Drawing him into her apartment, she said, "I've been hoping you would call."

"Hoping I would call for over ten years?"

"Ten years? Doesn't seem that long to me."

"Well, you were only in one episode, so I guess..." Aw, skip it, he thought, I'm not going to waste time figuring out how the mechanics of this fanfic thing work.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing - it's not important."

"You wanted to call me, didn't you? I could tell. I always can tell."

"Well, you seemed like a fun lady. Didn't you say something about dancing on a table or something?"

"No, I asked you if someone said I had been dancing on a table."

"Oh, yeah. In the bar. That's right."

"Do you want me to dance on a table?" she asked mischievously. "That can be arranged."

"Um, uh - maybe later." Lennie was unaccountably nervous in this situation. "We need to eat dinner, and we don't want to be late for the show. I've got us tickets for _Chicago_."

"Oh, I just adore musicals! Tell ya what... maybe on the way home we can stop and pick up the CD, and I can dance to it for you. Would you like that?"

Actually, Lennie did find the idea quite appealing. Maybe he was going to get the hang of this after all.

"Sure, that'd be great."

"Okay, let me get my stuff. I'll be right back."

_So, what do you think so far, Lennie?_

"I have to say, not bad. I do have one question. When we come back here after the show, are we supposed to, um..."

_That's the whole point, isn't it?_

"But Dick Wolf will blow a gasket."

_Like he's going to notice me? I should be so lucky. Don't worry about it._

"If you say so."

_I'm the only one with the say-so. Just remember that._

"Geez, are you all so pushy?"

_The good ones are._

"And modest, too, I see."

_I really wouldn't start up with me if I were you._

"All right, all right."

"Talking to yourself, Lennie?" asked Valerie as she returned to the living room.

"Yup, sure am. Telling myself what a lucky fellow I am tonight."

**ooo000ooo**

Ed walked into the restaurant warily, looking around at the expensive chandeliers and excessive foliage. Man, they probably charged a fortune here just for the utilities required to keep the plants looking perky. He spotted his date waiting for him at the bar, and they were quickly seated.

Man, this is not good, he thought, looking over the menu. Filet Mignon, Chicken Cordon Bleu, King Crab Extravaganza... he looked at his Rolex, wondering if he'd have to pawn it after tonight.

"So... Ed, is it?" his date asked perkily.

"Yeah."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a cop."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

"What kind of cop?"

"Homicide."

"Oh, that's interesting."

"I guess so," Ed shrugged.

Ed's date drummed her fingers on the table, trying to think of something else to say.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"I used to go to Atlantic City a lot."

"Used to go? Why don't you go now?"

"Uh... I just stopped."

"Mhm," Ed's date thought for a moment. "Do you want to know what I do for a living?"

"Uh, sure."

"I'm a legal secretary."

"That's nice."

Suddenly Ed's date looked alarmed. "Uh - suddenly I have to go to the washroom," she said, and nearly ran off.

_Ed. What's going on?_

"What do you mean?"

_Are you aware that you're on a date? Not at a funeral?_

"Hey, don't look at me, you're the one who's writing this. Don't you know how to write date scenes?"

_Normally I do but..._ there was a moment of silence while the author thought. _You know, I just realized I've been trying to figure out what to do with you since I started this. And I can't come up with any ideas._

"Why not?"

_I... I don't really know enough about you._

"What? I've been around for four years!"

_Yeah, but... who are you?_

"What do you mean, Who am I? What kind of question is that?"

_You traveled some when you were a kid, you've been known to go gambling, you don't think men should spend all their money on women, you can be funny, and you're a good detective. _

"Yeah..."

_You do a mean undercover drug dealer. You've got a bit of a temper and you've been charged with excessive force. _

"So..."

_And you look yummy in a leather coat._

"Uh... thanks. So what's the problem?"

_But what do you do for fun? What do you do when you're not at work?_

"Uh..."

_Other than gamble?__ Which I don't know enough to write about?_

"Uh..."

_Well?_

"I don't know. It's just never come up."

_You see my problem. _

"Well, you're the writer. Make something up!"

_Uh...__ OK, you wanna be a big fan of underwater ballet?_

"Oh, for God's sake."

_Baking cookies? Needlepoint?_

Ed tsk'ed in annoyance. "No, stop it, that's worse than useless." He spotted his date coming back from the washroom. "Just - let me wing it."

**ooo000ooo**

"Well, here you go, baby, best seats in the house," Tony 'Tackle' Torini said expansively. Serena gazed blankly at the stage – sorry, the ring. "Whaddaya think?"

"They're great, Tony," she droned expressionlessly.

"Cost an arm and a leg, too," Tony said. "Literally. See, this bookie I know owed me real big-" he suddenly cut himself off as he remembered his date's profession. He glanced at her nervously. No reaction. She must not have heard. "I mean, this accountant friend of mine wanted to thank me for, uh, making a generous gift at his daughter's wedding. Yeah, that's it."

"That's great," Serena said brightly, tossing her hair. Tony smiled and put his arm around her.

"You like it, baby?"

"Tony, I don't much appreciate being called 'baby,'" she said seriously, focusing on him. "That's somewhat belittling. I'm a grown woman."

"Right," Tony agreed. He had to remember that she was a little different from the chicks – uh, women – he usually dated. Smart, professional, independent. At least, that's what he'd been told. "Is 'hon' OK?"

"That's fine," she chirped, going curiously blank-eyed. Tony frowned in slight puzzlement, quickly forgotten as the evening's festivities began and the actors – sorry, the wrestlers – began their posturing, grimacing, pre-game rituals.


	2. Chapter 2

Anita sighed impatiently as Branch launched into yet another rambling tale. This was awful. How did Jack and Serena put up with this man? She hadn't been this bored since… since that time she'd spent 79 hours cooped up in a surveillance van with Steve Jorgensen while he recounted his elaborate theory about Norwegians landing in North America. She'd spent the last hour trying to track down their staff: figuring out where and when _Chicago_ was playing, tracking down Jack's secretary to find out what restaurants he frequented, trying to locate pro-wrestling matches, and trying to imagine where the hell Ed Green would take a date. Branch, ostensibly there to help out, had seemed to see this mostly as an opportunity to pontificate.

"… so then we had to explain to the judge that that's not the kind of thing you can forgive – not in Mississippi."

"I thought you were from Georgia?" Anita asked, briefly paying attention as she dialed Ed's number again and scanned the paper for local events.

"Right. Not in Georgia."

"Still no answer from Ed's cell phone," Anita said in annoyance. "Mr. Branch! Look, here's a pro-wrestling match," Anita pointed to the paper. "Do you think we might be able to find Serena there?"

"Now, Lieutenant, I don't know if you've attended many of these… they can be mighty rough places. And there's a lot of people there. Trying to locate one young lady there… it might be like trying to find a black cat in your grandma's wine cellar."

"Please," Anita started to lose her cool and looked up into space imploringly, "at least let us contact them."

_No, come on, I need just a little more time with them._

Anita banged her head against the desk in frustration.

**ooo000ooo**

"So then Marks said, Cuff him!"

"And did they?" asked Sarah, Jack's date.

"Oh, yes. Jamie had to finish Curtis' testimony. I went into a holding cell. You should've seen Adam's face when he came to bail me out," Jack and Sarah shared a laugh.

"I always wondered why Marks resigned so suddenly. He used to be a damn fine judge, you know."

"Not when I tried that case before him. He almost let a killer go free."

"Still, you were clearly in contempt." Jack nodded, cheerfully agreeing with her. "Did you really think you'd get away with it?"

"Not really."

"So why did you?"

"He pissed me off."

"I'm sure that can't have been a first for you," Sarah laughed.

Jack smiled and shook his head. "No, but I don't like it when the game is rigged. "

"What about when it's rigged in your favour?"

"Oh, I can live with that."

"What about the thrill of winning against all odds? That doesn't excite you?"

"Yes, but I prefer a sure thing."

"A sure thing?" Sarah smiled, "Counselor, are we still talking strictly courtroom here?"

Jack felt his pulse suddenly quicken. Yes, he had been, but apparently she wasn't. Hoo boy. "I don't know... are we?"

Sarah's eyes twinkled mischievously. Jack grinned back at her and took a sip of his scotch.

**ooo000ooo**

"Whoa! Baby, duck!" Tony exclaimed as a chair flew past their heads.

"Tony, I told you, I don't appreciate being called Baby," Serena said sternly, but was unable to maintain her stern demeanor as she and Tony laughed at the antics of the wrestlers. "Besides - Baby Duck? That stuff is swill!"

They laughed together, and on impulse Tony put his arm around her shoulders. This was turning out pretty good. They'd started off a little rocky, with Serena looking around her with a 'what am I doing here' expression for the first little while, but she seemed to be getting into the spirit of things.

"Why do people watch this stuff?" Serena shook her head, amused at the spectacle but still a little puzzled by it.

"It's a morality play. Good v. Evil. It's also great audience participation." Tony gasped as the Bad Guy walloped the Good Guy.

"Booo!!" Serena yelled loudly. "Get up, get up!" she shouted at the dazed hero.

"You're really getting into this, aren't you?" Tony marveled.

"Are you kidding? Seen as a morality play, it's hilarious. Thank you so much for this!"

"No problem, babe- uh, hon," Tony corrected himself, and earned a big grin. The Good Guy got up slowly.

"Come on, you can do it!" Serena screeched along with thousands of other fans. "Get up! Show him what you're made of!!"

Tony laughed. Serena sat back, watching Good Guy stumble about. Bad Guy walloped him again, and he flopped down.

"Aaaww!" Tony commiserated with the fallen hero. Serena pursed her lips and tossed her hair. Tony looked at her, taking in her blank look.

"Serena?"

"Yeah, that's too bad, he's fallen down," she droned emotionlessly. Tony frowned at her, irritated beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with this chick? Was she on some kind of on-again, off-again zombie drug?

**ooo000ooo**

"Ed! Edward! Are you listening to me?"

"Sure, yeah," Ed said, rousing himself from a morose contemplation of the menu.

"What are you going to order? The waiter's been here three times and I'm getting hungry."

"You still want that King Crab Extravaganza?" Ed asked his date.

"Oh, for sure!" she enthused. "It looks amazing, don't you think?"

"I'll just have some water and a garden salad, then," he sighed. She pursed her lips in annoyance.

**ooo000ooo**

"So... thinking about me dancing this on the table for you?" Valerie leaned over and spoke into Lennie's ear as the double murderess Velma Kelly demonstrated the hot steps she and her dead sister used to do in their act. Lennie glanced at her, startled.

No, I wasn't, he started to say, but thought better of it. "Did you really mean that earlier?" he asked her curiously.

"Oh, yes. I love dancing. And you know what she said about that step number 17, the 'spread eagle,' don't you? This is inspiring me."

"Really."

"And I like an audience."

"Really."

"And I like it when my audience is appreciative." Lennie tried for another nonchalant Really, but found his mouth was suddenly dry. Oh, _thank you_, he thought at the writer. He settled for grinning at Valerie, vowing to be very, very appreciative that night after the show.

**ooo000ooo**

"No, no that's all right. Thank you for calling," Branch put down the phone with a sigh. "That's another one."

"Another judge who didn't get papers from Jack and Serena today?" Anita guessed. Branch nodded his head glumly.

"Just how many cases do those two work at one time?" Branch shrugged. They always seemed to be able to handle it. Of course, it probably helped that they had nothing else to do.

"So that's four judges feeling antsy, three defense lawyers wondering why Serena never showed up for their plea bargains, one deposition that had to be rescheduled, and two Grand Juries left sitting around like melons waiting to be knocked by a raccoon."

"Like what?" Anita asked, kicking herself as soon as she asked. She didn't really want to know.

"Melons. Raccoons like to knock on melons to test them to see when they're ripe. And let me tell you, if I was a raccoon, I'd be telling you this situation is mighty ripe right about now."

"I'm sure you would," Anita muttered. "And on my end, I have a surveillance team on one of Lennie and Ed's suspects telling me he looks like he's packing up to leave town, and we have no way to stop him because we don't have enough to arrest him on, two new murders that should've been their cases, but had to go to a pair of kids straight out of uniform, and a suspect who's been held for 72 hours who's gonna be let go because Lennie and Ed haven't got enough on her to hold her."

Branch made a knocking motion. "It's ripe indeed."

"Please!" Anita pleaded with the writer again. "You can't do this to the City. Crime is out of control and justice is not being served. You can't do this to innocent people." She lowered her voice and glanced at Branch, then added, "And you can't do _this_," she nodded at Branch, "to me."

**ooo000ooo**

"Wow, that was really something, wasn't it?" Tony asked Serena as they left the building, the audience abuzz with conversation about the match they'd just seen. Serena stared at the people going past. "Serena, baby… anybody home?" Serena glanced at Tony blankly, and he decided enough was enough. He cleared his throat as they stood on the street. "You know, I just realized, I, uh, I'm gonna have to go to uh… I gotta go do something… else," Tony finished lamely. That was the worst excuse he'd ever given a date. Fortunately, Serena didn't seem to notice.

"I'll give you a call," she said, brightening up and tossing her hair. "It was fun, wasn't it? I've never been to pro-wrestling, I never knew how funny it was. It just seemed a moronic waste of time, frankly. Give me a call next time you get tickets?"

For a split second he was tempted to agree, and mean it. She really was a pleasure when she perked up – pretty, bright, interesting… but then that weird blankness would come down over her and that just creeped him right out.

"Sure, baby, that's a great idea," he said, and buttoned up his coat. He patted her shoulder chastely, briefly regretting that Valentine's night would end solo for him, but also realizing that it would be far, far worse to continue this off-and-on thing in bed. Shuddering inwardly at the thought of that, he hailed a cab and left.

**ooo000ooo**

Ed regarded his date over a steadily mounting pile of king crab shells. He thought maybe it was a good thing that she had ordered that dish because all that cracking of the crab legs didn't leave much room for conversation.

His date excused herself to go to the ladies' room.

"Am I having a good time yet?" he asked into the air.

_Ed, you're not having a good time, your date's not having a good time, I'm not having a good time, and my readers aren't going to have a good time._

"Well, don't you go lookin' at me."

_You know, you disappoint me, Ed. I thought you were more of a team player. Here I am trying to raise the average incidence of romantic liaisons on this show to a measly .5 per year, and you won't cooperate._

"Okay, okay - I'll try to do better."

The woman returned to the table. "How was your salad?" she asked.

"Well, it was, um, very lettucey."

"Very lettucey?"

"Yeah, you know - with a lot of lettuce in it and all."

She looked down at her plate. "You don't like me very much, do you, Ed?"

"You're fine."

"Fine?"

"Why are you repeating everything I say?"

"Well, I guess it's because you say so little that I want to savor it."

Silence. Ed remembered what he promised the fanfic writer and summoned what he hoped was an inviting smile. "Okay, baby, your place or mine?"

"OKAY, BABY, YOUR PLACE OR MINE??"

"You're doing it again," Ed pointed out.

The woman just stared at him, threw down her napkin, and walked out of the restaurant.

_Ed, Ed, Ed..._

"Well, I tried. Can I go back to work now?"

_What is it with you? I don't have this kind of problem with the others._

"Bet you ain't doin' too great with Serena."

_At least she phases in and out. But you..._

He shrugged. "I do what I do - I solve crimes and arrest bad guys."

_Okay, Ed. I give up. Turn your cell phone back on._

**ooo000ooo**

_Try Ed's cell phone._

"It's not on," Anita said impatiently.

_It is now,_ the voice said dispiritedly. Anita raised her eyebrows and punched in his number.

"Green," his voice answered promptly.

"ED!" Anita nearly gave a cheer of relief, "Where the hell have you been?!"

"Nowhere," he said glumly. "What's up?"

"What's up is the 27th Precinct is going to hell!"

"What?"

"Anderson is about to skip town and Juarez is going to have to be let out and we have nothing to hold either one of them on. And Martinez and Dawes caught two murders today that should've gone to you and Lennie."

"Martinez and Dawes? They were in uniform two days ago! Whose bright idea was that?"

"Mine, Ed," Anita shot back, very annoyed. "I didn't have anybody else. I didn't even have anybody with experience to partner them with – everybody's suddenly doing more interesting things."

"More interesting than work?" Ed asked in astonishment.

"Yeah, hard to believe, isn't it?"

"OK, Lieu, don't worry, I'll get over there and take care of everything. Where's Lennie?"

"Probably still at the theatre. The show's over in about half an hour."

"OK. You go get him and I'll be at the precinct," he hung up, and Anita reflected that he definitely sounded more cheerful than he had been earlier that day. She briefly wondered how his date had gone.

"Well, Mr. Branch, it's been a real treat, but it's time for me to go."

"Wait – Lieutenant, we don't have my staff back yet." Anita tried to think of a tactful way of letting him know that that certainly wasn't her problem. "You may think it's not your problem, but there's no point in your people catching criminals if there's nobody here to put them away." Anita stared at him for a long moment, wishing he were wrong.

"Well, let's go to the theatre. We'll get Lennie and then maybe he can help us track down Serena and Jack."

**ooo000ooo**

Along with the rest of the audience, Lennie and Valerie enthusiastically applauded the _Chicago_ cast's curtain calls. He really had enjoyed himself. The actor playing Billy Flynn sure had done a good job but nowhere near as great as that guy who had played the part in the original back in the '70s. What was his name again? Lennie wished he could remember but supposed it would come back to him. He just really was glad he'd had a chance to go to a musical. Hadn't been to one in the longest time – not since… Gosh, when was it he had gone to that _Camelot_ revival? Hey, wait a minute, he thought. Damn, that was another fanfic. It was beginning to look to him like the only time he ever got off work and got to have any fun was in fanfics. Idly, he wondered if there were any chance Dick Wolf ever would hire any of these fanfic writers. Sure might make life a bit more interesting. Fat chance, he supposed. Can't have us having interesting lives now, can we? Wolf always says that will screw up syndication.

As he and Valerie left the Ambassador Theatre on West 49th and started to head to Times Square to buy that CD, he was astonished to spot the Lieutenant and a tall, heavyset white man scanning the crowd. Hey, wait a minute – that's that new DA, the one from Cornponeville or Dogpatch or somewhere. What in the heck are they doing here? For one brief, horrible moment the thought crossed Lennie's mind that since this was a fanfic Van Buren and that Branch guy might actually be… Nah, couldn't be – not even one of these fanfic writers could be _that_ crazy. Immediately he tried to erase the picture from his mind.

Anita spotted them, and she and Branch hurried over. "Lennie, thank God we've tracked you down!" she said.

Lennie wondered how he rated a search party that included the District Attorney of New York County, for crying out loud. "Lieu, what's the matter? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? Everyone is gone! From my precinct! From the DA's office! That's what's wrong! And here you are at a musical instead of closing a case, and I…"

"Lennie, who are these people?" asked Valerie, bewildered.

"My boss," Lennie mumbled. "Look, Lieu…"

"Your boss? Unh-unh, your boss is a bald-headed white guy. I saw him at the police station when I was looking at those pictures."

Lennie sighed. "I'll explain it to you later, Valerie." He turned to Anita and put his hands on her shoulders. "Now, look, Lieu – just calm down, okay? We told you about this this afternoon. It's a fanfic, remember? I know you haven't been in very many, and it does take some getting used to, but they're really not so bad once you relax and enjoy 'em."

"What in the name of Al Capp is he talkin' about, Lieutenant?" demanded Branch.

Anita was calming down a little. "Well, Mr. Branch, it's like this… when the writer is a fan instead of one of our regular writers, strange things happen. We end up doing a lot of stuff that we normally wouldn't do. Think a lot, talk a lot, go on dates… it sure does louse up your normal routine."

"Well, I'll be a toad in a holler at sunset in August! Does Dick Wolf know about this?"

"No one knows if he does or not, Mr. Branch," said Lennie, a bit impatiently, anxious to get on with his evening.

"Well, tarnation, I don't remember being in one of them."

Both Lennie and Anita were trying to think of a tactful way of pointing out that to be in a fanfic, one would actually have to have fans.

Fortunately, Valerie interrupted the conversation. "Len-nie," she said in a mock whine, "Aren't we going to go over to Virgin and get that CD?" She snuggled up to him very suggestively. "You remember what I promised you, don't you? A little razzle-dazzle and all that jazz?"

"Well, folks – there you have it. There's just not much that can be done about this," said Lennie. "So, if you will excuse us?"

"Just one lickedy-split minute there, Detective," said Branch. "You gonna buy the original cast CD or the revival one?"

Lennie laughed. "The original cast, of course!"

**ooo000ooo**

After failing to persuade the completely bedazzled Lennie to abandon the lovely Miss Walker and go back to work, Anita and Branch trudged dispiritedly back to Branch's car. And they were only more discouraged to find that the pro-wrestling event was over and almost all of the audience had left.

"Mr. Branch, it looks like this fanfic writer just isn't going to let us catch a break. Except for finding Ed, we're striking out."

"Well, it's dang rootin'-tootin' sure that detective of yours ain't!" said Branch with a twinkle in his eye.

Men, sighed Anita. "Okay, look, I think this is what we should do. It's likely that Serena and her date have gone to one of their apartments. You don't have any idea where this Tony person lives, do you?"

"No more'n I'd know where to find a ring-tailed rattlesnake at hog-renderin' time."

Ring-tailed...? Anita rolled her eyes to the sky. "All right, we get it already. He's Southern. Do you have to lay it on so thick?"

_I'm offended, Anita. I would never tell you how to investigate a crime. If you want this evening to ever end, please don't tell me how to write my characters._

"Excuse me? _Your_ characters?"

_Well, um, -- yeah. I guess you have me there._

Anita thought that this uppity Ms Fanfic was lucky they didn't have her in a cell for this, but, damn, she was right. She supposed the writer could turn this into a novel if she wanted. Wishing she could take being in a fanfic as nonchalantly as Lennie seemed to be doing, she turned back to Branch.

"Okay, sir, but we do know where Serena lives, and the odds are fifty-fifty that they'll be there. So let's go there next."

"Sounds like as good a plan as the time my cousin Billy-Joe-Sonny decided we ought to try Texas Pete instead of catsup on our cornbread," Branch agreed amiably and gave directions to his driver.

Anita gritted her teeth.

Serena answered their urgent knocking with a long-haired white cat in her arms. She blinked in mild surprise to see her boss and Lt. Van Buren at her door.

"Serena, we're sorry to interrupt," Anita said quickly before Branch could open his mouth, "But we really do have to talk to you."

"Well..." Serena looked confused. "I was just going to give Fluffles a bath... But, yes, that's fine. Please come in."

"Bathin' a cat - well, now that does surprise me," said Branch.

Please, please, no bathing of cats stories, prayed Anita and spoke quickly. "What Mr. Branch means, Serena, is that we thought you, um, had a date."

Serena thought about that. "A date? Oh, yes, I did have a date. With Tony. He took me to pro-wrestling. But he's gone."

Anita figured that if Serena didn't seem to mind that her date didn't turn out well, she sure wasn't going to question it.

"Wrestling. Now ya know, down home--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Branch," interrupted Anita, not sure she could take any more. "Remember, we have to talk to Serena about coming back to work."

"Well, dad blast, you're right, Lieutenant," he said and turned to Serena. "Look, little lady, we really need you back at the office. I got more judges callin' to talk to you and Jack than a possum has--"

"'Little lady?' 'Little lady?'" said Serena, not believing she had heard right. She looked inquiringly at Anita, wondering what had gotten into her boss.

Anita sighed. "We're in a fanfic, Serena. Remember? I know you and I don't have much experience with this, but we've just got to get through it as best we can."

"Oh, yeah. That's right. That voice I was talking to. Oddest damn thing. You want me to come back to work, Mr. Branch? I can do that. Fluffles won't mind waiting for his bath."

Well, that was easy, thought Anita. She had hoped that things wouldn't get complicated with Serena, but then she supposed that not even the fanfic writer could complicate Serena.

**ooo000ooo**

"Where are you going?" Branch asked Jack as they finally found him leaving Chantilly's, a restaurant Serena said he might go to.

"We're going to her place," Jack grinned.

Jack's date, a little giggly, was clutching his arm. "Soo… am I gonna get to ride that motorcycle you were telling me about?"

"Not with all I've had to drink," Jack laughed. "Come on, let's call a cab." Jack's date nodded enthusiastically and went off to find a phone, only slightly unsteady.

"Jack. You have the Gutierrez case opening tomorrow. Serena says she hasn't even started it yet."

"Oh, we can wing it. It's not that big a case anyway." Anita and Branch stared at each other in dismay.

"Not that big a case?" Branch repeated in disbelief. "It's bigger than... than… than my Aunt Annie's okra casserole." Jack and Anita frowned at him in slight puzzlement. "Gutierrez owns one of the biggest hardware chains in the State. He's a major contributor to educational programs for low-income Hispanic children. The evidence against him is flimsy at best. There's political pressure from the Latino community to acquit and from women's groups to convict. It's been on the front pages for months. Not that big a case?"

"I've worked bigger ones," Jack said dismissively. "Anyway," he lowered his voice and leaned close to Branch, "We're going to Sarah's place to write Supreme Court decisions on each other with chocolate body paint. Tell me you'd be willing to pass that up for a damn case."

"Fair enough," Branch said after a moment, while Anita tried very very hard to not imagine that. "Serena's a competent attorney. I'm sure she'll do fine."

Upon hearing that, Jack felt a pang of conscience, having indulged in alcohol and not a lobotomy that night. "Serena's a competent attorney? Arthur, how much have you had to drink?" He shook his head, realizing he'd better leave his personal life aside. There were more important things than chocolate body paint, after all. He glanced at his date with regret as she came back from the phone. "Um, Sarah…"

"Jack? The cab's here. The chocolate awaits us, lover," she smiled seductively. Jack felt his resolve start to melt away. "I've thought of a _great_ place to write Brown v. The Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas."

That was enough for Anita, and she beat a hasty retreat out of the restaurant.

It was enough for Jack, as well. "Arthur, I'm off the clock," he said, eagerly taking hold of Sarah's arm. "Like you said, Serena's a competent attorney. I'm sure she'll do fine prepping tonight." And if she doesn't, he thought to himself, I'll wing it tomorrow with a great big smile on my face, a song in my heart, and Brown v. The Board of Education of Topeka Kansas etched into my memory for all time.

**ooo000ooo**

"Well… two outta four ain't bad," Branch said philosophically to Anita as they stood on the sidewalk and watched Jack and Sarah scurry into their cab. Anita glared at him, daring him to say something cornponey. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

"This isn't fair," she said to the air.

_Look, it's just one night. It's Valentine's Day. Give them a break. And I gave two of your people back to you, didn't I?_

"Yeah, but… look, Ed's a hell of a detective, but he can't tackle all crime in the precinct single-handed."

_You'll have Lennie back tomorrow._

"Yeah, right… is he gonna be able to work, or is he gonna be mooning after this dancer of his?"

_Oh, he might not get much sleep tonight, but he'll be one happy camper tomorrow, believe me._

"No, um, recreational injuries either? The man is getting on in years, you know."

_I'll make sure he's OK. Valerie moonlights as a massage therapist when she's not exotic dancing._

Lucky bastard, thought Branch. "And what about my office?" he asked. "What am I supposed to do with only Serena working?"

_Well… I have to admit, I've left you in a bit of a bind. Serena's not who I would pick to shoulder the burdens of the job all by herself. But… it's only for one night._

"And Jack will be back tomorrow?"

_Yes, he will. I promise. Bright eyed and bushy tailed and with a faint scent of Swiss chocolate._

Anita shuddered – TMI, TMI, she thought.

"OK, well, I'm going back to the precinct to give Ed a hand, Mr. Branch. Good luck tomorrow."

"I'll go back to Hogan Place," he said. "I have to get to the elevator to say something profound."

"To who?" Anita asked.

"Uh… I'm sure there'll be somebody around."

"You don't have to go to Hogan Place. There's an elevator in there," Anita pointed helpfully at the restaurant, and Branch walked back in, trying to think of what he could say to himself if there wasn't anybody there. That was always his favourite part, the closing line. But usually it was a little dialogue. Hm…

"That's the thing – if it ain't broke, don't fix it," he said to himself. That sounded pretty good. Or… "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." No, that was no good. "All's fair in love and war." Oh, this was awful. Dick Wolf never intended for this to happen. Oh! There it was! "Just goes to show, you don't mess with Original Intent," he said triumphantly, as the doors closed behind him.

Anita watched him go, muttering to himself, and sighed, getting ready to go back to the 2-7 to help out Ed. Suddenly she had an idea. She looked up.

"You know… just because I'm married, doesn't mean I don't know it's Valentine's Day."

_Yes?_

"Well… it doesn't seem fair to me that this has focused on only the Singles crowd. Like they're the only ones who can have a love life."

_Your point?_

"Look, we both know there's not much I can do to help out Ed. This day has been pretty much a dead loss as far as law enforcement is concerned. But… you know… it's been a long, long time since Don and I have gone out anywhere. He works long hours at his hardware store, I work long hours at the precinct, we try to spend as much time as possible with the kids when we're not working…"

_…and?_

"And how about showing a little compassion for the married folks too?"

_All right…_ Anita almost heard a smile in the author's voice. _I suppose I should make up for sticking you with Arthur Branch all night, too. Here you go,_ Anita startled slightly as her cell phone went off. She flipped it open.

"Anita?"

"Don?"

"You'll never believe what I just found in the mail. There's a coupon for L'Etoile, for dinner for two."

"Really?"

"Yes. With a complementary overnight stay for two at a suite upstairs. Apparently they'd like me to put up a little ad for their place at my store, so they sent me this promotional stuff."

"A high-class hotel with a four-star restaurant wants you to advertise for them at your hardware store?"

"Yeah, strange, isn't it? So what do you say? Wanna take the night?"

"What, now?"

"It's Valentine's Day, sweetheart. What do you say we pretend we're newlyweds again?"

"Uh… sure," Anita said, smiling broadly. "I'll meet you there."

"I'll bring you something nice to wear. See you soon."

Anita flipped her phone closed and looked up. "Thanks."

_Happy Valentine's Day, Anita._


End file.
